Some Lonely Weirdo
by BecauseHeroesNeverDie
Summary: Mr. Mystery was getting louder and tackier with age, crumbling and crusty and not-so-mysterious. -A peek into Stan's post-summer routine-


Summer was over and the kids were gone. He had been absolutely embarrassing at the bus station, teary-eyed and frantic. Plenty of people would have claimed his sentimentality as a sign of positive personal growth, but Stan knew better and decided not to call it anything.

Tourist season had died with the summer. However, the dry season wasn't without excitement as those who did pop up tended to be massive weirdos. Stan remembered slamming the door on a pair of strange young men with fake badges and suspicious questions. Probably out to look for things better left unfound. Thrill seekers like that were worse than that Catholic couple who used to show up every Sunday to save his soul from the devil. Stan had proven he was not above faking demonic possession to get out of uncomfortable conversations with nosy christians. The crosses, Bibles, and bottles of oil and holy water that had started popping up on his doorstep following the incident had gone straight to Soos' grandmother, who was supposedly getting good use from them. Great for her.

Though these sorts of characters brought color to the dullness of the off-season, Stan was more or less out of business until October pulled in the sweet rush of Halloween suckers. Candlelit Gravity Falls ghost tours guided by _the_ Mr. Mystery were always good for quick cash, and he was even pushing his estimated profits up this year as he was still in the town's good graces. With fewer mouths to feed and brushes with whatever forces of darkness decided to swoop out of the woods after his dumb kids- and why did he always have to think of them as _his_ kids anyway- he would actually be pocketing some of the profits.

Thoughts of change in his flow of income during the off-season were not what had plagued him that summer. Late at night, he'd stared out the living room window at some space just past the moon and imagined how the rest of the year would play out. The squealing scream of off-air television stations had never been loud enough to distract him.

Honestly, the pig was a surprise. He'd expected his niece and nephew-in-law to bend over backwards the second Mabel's eyes started watering. Turns out they were made of tougher stuff than he was. They were the parents and he was the weirdo great-uncle-granddad who lived by himself in the middle of the woods so, naturally, they won. Mabel had mailed him a painstakingly detailed care guide, covered with illustrations. There were several sheets of positive reinforcement stickers stapled into the back. He'd gotten into the habit of giving himself and Waddles stickers at breakfast. Stickers were moody bastards and many fell before their time, but Stan made sure to keep their meaning in his heart. _What a baby. _

"Come on, Eggs-tra-ordinary," Way to Go! mumbled, lifting the pig up and dropping him off in a cozy corner of his office. He snuffled and dug his way into his fleece bed, off to whatever dreams haunt future bacon.

As he lowered himself into his seat, Stan's bones creaked like the cheap floorboards he favored. Images of nursing homes whirred through his mind. He shook his head, dismissing the tilt-a-whirl feeling in his stomach. Time for paperwork.

Waddles was up again, sniffing at his ankles vying for attention. After a few indignant grunts, the pig shuffled out of the room, probably to pee on the carpet in revenge.

Soos came in everyday at 10:30 to check if anything needed fixing, but mostly he sat in for coffee and stilted conversation. He had cookies with him most days, grandma's treat. Guess she really liked the holy water and votive candles. Maybe it saved on the electricity bill.

After coffee, he did the rounds with Soos. Property damage wasn't much of a problem without the kids around. It was clutter-busting nowadays and Soos really had a knack for it. Stan didn't thank him or bother with praise, just made sure the kid had enough to keep his two-person household running. Nice words tended to stick in his throat whereas sarcasm and insults flowed like Mabel's glitter glue on Family Craft Night.

There were a couple normal tours that day. Mr. Mystery was getting louder and tackier with age, crumbling and crusty and not-so-mysterious. Glasses and an eyepatch at once? Honestly. He imagined Dipper in the back, rolling his eyes. He yelled to make sure he wasn't missing out on key info on the new and improved corn-i-corn. He was considering adding a cooler monster soon. Nothing real, but something he thought Dipper might like, even if it did irritate his authenticity gland.

It got quiet after the last group left. No tourists, no Soos, and Wendy at school or off rollicking with those obnoxious friends of hers. This was quality Stan, Waddles, and TV time. Feet up, remote in hand, and pig in lap, Stan would ignore petty things like loneliness and the pointlessness of life and the universe in general.

"Dammit, forgot to feed the pig," he hissed under his breath, slapping a hand to his face. He pulled himself out of his chair, Waddles trotting after him into the kitchen. He dumped the slop that pig loved into his bowl and set it down. "There ya go."

Stan and the pig sat in silence. "Uh, sorry about that."

He sighed, and rose from his seat.

"'Night, Pig," he grumbled, picking his way slowly over to his room. He crossed out the day on the calendar, praying that his old man powers would get him to sleep early. Alas, it was all in vain! He glared up at the ceiling. He remembered liking this time of night, this silence at some point. It had been a long time ago, he thought.

He stuck a hand out toward the nightstand. Miraculously, he managed to reach the radio and turn the dial without upsetting his glasses or teeth. He stopped on some talk show with a man interviewing people who said they had seen monsters but had clearly never seen _monsters_. He made a mental note to tell Dipper to listen to it sometime. The kid would believe every word. He'd be out looking for aliens the moment someone told him where to look. It was all fine and fun when the boy was looking for things that wouldn't be there. Stan didn't like to think about him practically throwing himself at real, seriously dangerous things. He hoped he'd get all of this out of his system soon. At least it wasn't drugs, right?

He laughed a little at that thought. He hadn't been doing that all that much lately. He needed to squash all this self-pity and he'd be back to his awful, scheming weirdo self in no time. _Money back not guaranteed. _

He stifled a yawn and collapsed into a heap on his pillows. He'd get around to it tomorrow, if he had time.

_Writer's woes: Started out as a request for a drabble on tumblr ( check me out I'm howls-moving-walmart in those parts) and I ended up editing it and throwing it on here. I'm still sort of annoyed about the flow and I feel like a lot of sentences are awkwardly worded or just too long but I'm mostly okay with it I think. I freaking love Stan and it was a blast to come up with what he'd be up to. Don't be too offended about the christian bit, okay? I'm feeling a little bitter about my mom shoving her religion on me so it was funny to vent it out through a character like Stan. I want to write out a separate scene for that, but it's not happening right now. _

_Uhhh, also I guess this will be my 50th fic I've posted. I wanted to put up something super good but that got in the way of writing for me so I decided to just put something I'd written recently on. I'll write all that big cool stuff I wanted to do someday._

_Anyway, stay strange!_


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